


The Christmas solution

by ARMEN15



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Beautiful Golden Fools, Betrayal, Childbirth, Christmas, F/M, Minor Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth, Minor Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark, PTSD, Secret Children, Secret Relationship, Twincest, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, a vague scent of England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28284276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: A little fic in three chapters for the season with some of our favourite characters and an altered timeline.I do wish all of you a Merry Christmas, peace on earth and time spent with those you love.This work has been originally written in italian and will be published in italian, too.Thanks a lot to my dear BETA!
Relationships: Cersei Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

The military bag on his shoulders, the uniform that pulls to the left for too many decorations, the right arm with the sleeve fluttering, empty at the bottom.

Lt. Jaime Lannister got off the plane that also carried the wounded on stretchers, of which they have priority to disembark. He was an injured man, and looking at the stump he wondered whether it is more in physicality or in spirit.

As soon as they disembarked, some family members embraced the returned soldiers; Jamie looked around, there was no one for him. A war hero without glory.

It was an airport away from the hype of the capital's hub, a secondary runway.

Discharged with honour, he had offered enough to the homeland, a forced volunteer in the war zone in order to escape the threat that could destroy himself as much as the dearest thing he had in the world.

"I will not accept to see our name tarnished."

Tywin Lannister, his father, the old lion, had said, calm voice made of steel.

"Make your choice about how to defend the Lannister honour, now."

So Jaime had departed, on Tywin's harsh conditions. The driver had taken them to the training centre without giving Jaime time to go home, to throw something in his suitcase, to say hello to the place and to say goodbye to Cersei.

"Don't think to see her again! You are the shame of the family, thank God your mother died and did not have to suffer this affront."

Tywin had declared, leaving Jaime in front of the commander's door in a tone that left no room for doubt.

Returning to military life had been strange after so many years - it had been a front-page headline across the media when Jaime, a young cadet just turned of age, had killed the Prime Minister with his ordinance sword while the man was in a grip of destructive madness and threatened to detonate a bomb - hidden in the sewers - in the crowded square for a national holiday.

Tywin had brought his eldest son home and enlisted him in the family business, although Jaime was reluctant to follow in his father's footsteps and considered Cersei more qualified.

But on this matter Tywin had not wished to hear any objections.

"You are the male heir and it is your duty."

Jaime had bowed his head, resigned; on appearance he was safe and arrogant, having had the courage and readiness to save hundreds of people, but inside him was the awareness that he had lost control of his life.

Because the truth had been manipulated with an unusual alliance between Tywin's money and the moral rigor of Ned Stark, the Home Secretary, Jaime passed on as the heroic officer who killed the man who murdered the Prime Minister. The dead body of a tramp did the trick.

Cersei had listened to his account, a few months after the act, one evening when they were alone in the large historic family home on the west coast, the servants at the minimum and their father away on another business trip.

Jaime has wept, bitter tears, because his life – only just into adulthood - was a big lie and Cersei had embraced him, closer, tighter than usual, and Jaime felt that he was free again, because the most beautiful girl in the world, his twin, his star, was kissing him softly on the lips.

"You're so beautiful."

He murmured, mouth against mouth, heart against heart, and Cersei continued to drink at the source of his lips with a thirst that became increasingly ardent, expanding from face to chest to the whole body.

"Jaime, hold me, please."

Cersei's green eyes were the sea in stormy weather, the same storm that was colliding their bodies against each other, where something soft cushioned the impact of a part so stiff as to cause pain.

When the storm subsided, Jaime and Cersei found themselves naked, still in each other’s embrace, their legs intertwined and a new taste on their lips and between their thighs.

Rivulets of sweat had covered his body, and Jaime's legs had trembled for a few minutes. He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life he had made love, and precisely with the person he loved the most.

Cersei, forced to break the enchantment to head to the bathroom, threw her legs over the bed and saw the pink traces on the white sheets.

Jamie followed the look, she appeared troubled; he remembered that they had not used any protection, that they had no protection with them.

"I'm sorry, little sister."

Cersei turned and smiled at him.

"Don't worry, I'm always regular and we didn't take any chances today."

From that time on they carried on sleeping together whenever Tywin was absent, and they found a way, on safe days, to join their bodies, until Cersei had the pill prescribed under the guise of slight ailments. For a few years their lives had been full.

Jaime was distracted from his memories by a voice that called his name. He looked around; the families had left, the arrivals area was almost deserted, only a couple of drivers with names written on a sheet or tablet remained talking to each other, waiting for some international flight, for work or tourism.

Jaime's eyes moved down to the floor and he saw the little shadow, even more crushed by the play of light of two lamps that kept jumping.

His brother, with a black wool hat on his head, a wet raincoat, and a stain of dirt or grease on his trousers.

"Got a flat tyre so I arrived late."

"Tyrion! You came."

"Of course, did you think no one would welcome you?"

Jaime remained silent, certainly not expecting his father, in India for a few months, or Cersei, a newlywed bride.

He no longer had her phone and Cersei's number was unreachable every time he tried to get in touch with her during the first few weeks of training; not even in the fashion company where she worked had he succeeded, where a secretary always answered and promised to report, but Jaime no longer believed it.

Then at the airport, on the day of departure for the Middle East, a fellow soldier bought some magazines for the flight and approached Jaime brandishing one.

There, on the front page, the news with the photo.

"Fairytale wedding and corporate merger, Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon marry today at an exclusive resort on Costa Azzura."

Jaime's heart stopped, his world dissolved into black powder, thin as the ashes of the fire of the great fireplace of the house.

Later, during the flight, curiosity devoured him and he begged to read the article, explaining that he was in conflict with his father and therefore not invited to the wedding.

The article, short, reported a quick engagement and a wedding with about sixtry selected guests. There was also a photo of Cersei with Tywin next to her, but none with Tyrion.

The name Robert Baratheon reminded Jaime of a stout man in his thirties, with black hair, a loud voice, and a laugh that often had a trace of mockery underneath.

Cersei smiled at the photographer, in an elegant white dress, her hair braided with flowers and a tiara on her mane, like a true queen.

Jaime studied the image for a long time, trying to decipher his sister's gaze, if she was sad, convinced, resigned to marriage.

Seeing Robert's hand possessively on her side, Jaime felt his blood rushing to his head, with thoughts of Robert touching her, caressing her, kissing her, penetrating her on the wedding night.

He retched, and the bile made his throat so sour that he had to cough for a long time to control himself and not dirty the seat and uniform.

His next-seat companion, a veteran, on whose tag was written Blackwater, observed Jaime.

"Are you okay? You're as pale as a corpse."

"Yes, yes, I probably ate something I didn't digest."

"Forget the kitchen at home. We're going to jump in the middle of spiders and scorpions. I bet they're going to make us eat them." The sound of laughter served to distract Jaime; the older man wanted to talk and Jaime found it easier not to think.

Tyrion had a sports car, an old Jaguar refurbished by his expert mechanic. He had found it - he explained - on a business trip North where he had met a red-haired girl who remained in his heart. Cars were his passion, he had learned to drive before he got his driver's license.

"Is my little brother in love?"

Tyrion blushed and stammered that she was too beautiful and too tall to look at someone like him.

"And she's a Stark, Father would immediately force me to marry her just out of interest. If only I were like you, I would have all the women of the world at my feet."

"Too bad I only care about one."

Tyrion didn’t know what to answer, his witty mind, which often provided him with a ready answer couldn’t help him in front of the pain printed on his older brother's face. It wasn't because of the hand; the doctors assured the whole family that the post-operative course was regular and Jaime found cramps more than bearable with a dosage of pain pills.

He decided to change the topic.

"Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna will come for Christmas with their families. Aunt threatened to quit..."

Jamie abruptly interrupted his brother.

"And she?"

"I don't know."

"Tyrion!" In just one word, Jaime created a whole speech of pain and anguish and loneliness.

"I swear, Jaime, believe me, it's not up to me or Father."

"Then he's in charge. Or she ... she doesn't want to see me because..."

Jaime raised his stump.

Tyrion put on the brakes suddenly to pull over. He stared at Jaime straight in the eyes, green as his own, as everyone in their family.

"I know it's hard for you, but also for Cersei. The old lion trapped all of us. I took your place in the company and I live only for my work, without a moment's respite. I barely see Cersei these days."

Jaime turned to the window and spoke no more until they reached home.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime spent the day before Christmas Eve in his room, alone except for a quick lunch with his brother in a pub. The Lannisters’ town house was full of memories of his childhood that hurt and at the same time were sweet; every room had represented a moment of his growth, always with Cersei by his side, and now it was deserted.

Jaime woke up on Christmas Eve with a strange feeling that he knew well but had forgotten for a few months, because of the tension of his mission and the trauma of his amputation.

He felt a shiver all over his body, his mind could not concentrate, and his heart was beating at a different rate. It meant only one thing.

Cersei.

Something was happening to her, Jaime was sure.

He called her, in their private language, shouted silently to the sky that he needed her, despite Robert, her marriage, the end of their love. Cersei was his twin and always would be.

He went down to the kitchen where Tyrion had prepared brunch. His brother had an elf hat that made Jaime smile, and sitting at the kitchen counter, they talked about trivial things until Tyrion started filling the dishwasher, then turned suddenly towards Jaime.

"Tonight's dinner is being held by Robert. We must go."

He quickly added, seeing his brother grab the edge of the cabinet with one hand and air with the stump.

"There are no excuses. Our father will be on video call and uncles and cousins want to see you."

Jamie felt stuck, forced from every side to accept the torment of seeing his sister.

"Please, you can tell him that my hand...”

"Jaime, you don't understand! We have no choice."

Jaime rested his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands, swaying, a lament of an injured animal.

Tyrion sat next to his brother, with his legs dangling and his torso too small to embrace his hero, the man who had protected him from birth and who was now destroyed in body and soul.

"Tyrion, please."

"I can't, I know what you're feeling, because I'm the only one who you have told. But our father ordered this dinner because he wants to see you and above all check your reaction with Cersei. You have to be stronger and smarter than him. If you let him win, he will separate you again."

"What difference does it make? She's married to that whorer now. Father sold his daughter for money!"

Tyrion desired something to drink, but it was too early; he also wanted to give Jaime something to calm him but feared for the side effects with the medication he was taking and Jaime had to stay clear-headed for the trial that awaited him.

With heartfelt words Tyrion convinced him, and for Cersei Jaime decided to accept everything, even his own broken heart, to see her happy. If Robert could help her achieve her goals, Jaime would set himself aside.

Because Tyrion had showed him the company's results, he had seen that his sister's innovative marketing had increased the sales of the textile branch and there were plans for a new line of products.

Tywin had praised his daughter in front of a board of directors for the first time ever and Jaime knew how important it was to Cersei; it was the recognition of her merits that she so longed for and deserved.

The private room booked by Robert, with a wide view of the estuary, was still empty. Tyrion had tricked Jaime, coming early before dinner time in order to arrive first.

They toured the table, richly set up in silver tones, no trace of the colours of the Lannister house.

Jaime started to become impatient, walking up and down in front of the fireplace above which was the screen to be used by his father to greet them; for the old lion, the festivities were no longer important after the death of his wife.

Uncle Kevan and his family arrived with bags full of gifts, wrapped in red and with golden bows. Aunt Dorna wanted to hug Jaime immediately and wiped away a few tears at the sight of the stump.

But Jaime didn't want compassion, and he freed himself from her arms on the pretext that Tyrion needed help to move a large package and make room under the Christmas tree in front of the window.

Tyrion had prepared gifts for everyone, one in his name, one in Jaime's name.

Whether or not the family members believed Jaime had had time to shop in the few days he spent at home wasn't important.

Jaime's ear was pointed towards the door, picking up the sound of Cersei's heels first: among a thousand women he would recognize his sister's swaggering and decisive walk.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Stannis, hug Shireen for me."

Robert's mighty voice on the phone with his brother, the Baratheons had arrived.

Jaime moved so that Cersei did not see the stump immediately, he was insecure and ashamed of the deformity that the explosion had caused him.

Behind Robert, imposing in a dark suit, appeared his sister, in a bright red coat that added only splendour to the blonde mane. Aunt Dorna approached to help Cersei remove the garment and Jaime saw.

The round, full belly, wrapped in a red tight-fitting dress that left no room for illusions: Cersei was heavily pregnant, Robert had made her his own.

Jaime leaned on the back of the nearest chair, not realizing that by moving his right arm in habit he had exposed his impairment.

Cersei did not look at the missing hand, but at Jaime's eyes, which could not hold the gaze.

"Welcome, little sister." Tyrion's voice broke the tension, "Oh, Aunt Genna has arrived, too."

Tywin's sister, preceding her husband and children, immediately went to her favourite nephew.

No words, just a warm hug that finally allowed Jaime to cry.

He did not care about Robert or appearing weak, or suffering the pains of hell; the excuse was the wound, they would all pity him, except for his brother-in-law.

Jaime had lost everything, because he had lost Cersei.

After the appetizers and while waiting for the connection with his father, Jaime took Tyrion by the shoulder and directed him to the bathroom, finding no resistance; he pushed him in and closed the door.

"You knew!"

Tyrion looked down, of course he knew, but if he had spoken Jaime would never have shown up for the dinner.

"You didn't tell me anything!"

Jaime hit the stump against the mirror above the sink, looking for the pain he knew would come from the violent gesture.

"What was I supposed to tell you? I was afraid, after your hand..."

"Of what? That I would commit suicide? Oh I thought about it, sure, but I didn't want to give the big lion the satisfaction of looking weak."

Words that hurt Tyrion's heart, the idea of losing his older brother was his greatest fear. He had suffered a lot when Jaime was kicked out of the house and even more so at the news of the injury.

"Jaime, see reason, it couldn't be, you're twins. Father would never let you..."

"To hell with him. To hell with everyone. I was dealing with the Tyrells to get a job with them, I wanted to move and become independent!"

Jaime leaned against the marble floor, suddenly feeling emptied.

"I don't know what to do, Tyrion."

"There's nothing we can do. Let's go honour Father and get ready to become uncles."

The car did not turn on and after a dozen attempts Tyrion had to admit that the Jaguar's battery was low; on Christmas Eve, roadside rescue prioritized accidents with vehicles to move and injured people, so Tyrion left the car in the restaurant parking lot.

"Uncle Kevan, you bring Tyrion and we’ll bring the young lion. You can't drive it, what a pity, but you can get on my Monster."

In Tywin's absence, Robert Baratheon posed as head of the family, and he was enthused by the blond trophy by his side, wrapped in warm fabrics to protect her belly.

Cersei hadn't spoken during dinner, her eyes down on the plate, moving her food, pretending to eat.

She wished to leave as soon as possible, but instead Robert made sure to lengthen her torment by keeping her close to Jaime, who appeared destroyed, devastated, mutilated, desperately in need of comfort and she could not help him, being a prisoner of Robert and the circumstances.

On the screen hanging on the wall Tywin had appeared, even more austere and threatening than usual, while declaring that her child would be the future of their families; the first of many heirs, he had said, and Cersei had felt she was dying inside even more.

Robert drank, vintage wine, champagne, liquor, only Tyrion was matching up to him; Jaime hadn't touched a drop of wine.

Under Robert's command, Jaime climbed into the back seat behind his sister, who had difficulty taking a seat in the SUV.

Robert didn't help her, standing by and looking at his phone, smoking.

Cersei let slip a groan on closing the passenger door; they were alone, for a few moments. Jaime couldn't help but worry about her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I'm tired. Robert and Father force me out every night, one representative dinner after another."

"In your condition it is..."

"Shh! He's coming."

Robert's footsteps were heard on the icy ground and his voice greeting the departing Lannisters.

"Damn winter! I don't know how Ned Stark can stand the North. I can't wait for the house on the French Riviera to be ready. Next Christmas we will go there. Maybe we'll live there all the time."

For Jamie, the idea that the Baratheons could move to another country was another blow to his heart. Robert sat heavily in the driver's seat and took the steel flask out of his pocket, offering Jamie a taste.

"Special reserve, 24 years old. Don't you want any? Then I’ll drink yours too."

"Robert, you have to drive."

Cersei had observed her husband's every move at the table and how much he had drunk, but suddenly Robert turned to her and slapped her.

"Don't tell me what I must or must not do! Shut up and just think about popping out this child fast. I'm sick of seeing you fat. At least the belly is so big that it can't be a dwarf like the uncle."

Cersei curled up on herself, silently; Jaime felt even more useless, he couldn't help her.

What kind of man was he, he who had faced the rebels two months before yet now he couldn't keep up with a drunkard?

Robert was a dangerous threat, and Jaime decided that he had to eliminate him. In one way or another he had to free his sister, although with Robert's baby in her belly they could not erase him altogether, and Tywin would never allow them to be together.

Robert took two long sips before he started the BMW, proud of the new toy he had gifted himself for Christmas, he told Jaime in a somewhat strained voice; the road was lit up, but few cars were moving about in the stretch between the sea and the city.

Suddenly Jaime felt the belt pull and it seemed to tear his flesh, so strong had been the impact after the abrupt steering.

He only managed to take short and frequent breaths, and there was pain in his head where he had violently slammed it against the door.

The airbag hindered his eyesight and he couldn’t see the rest of the seats, but he could feel cold air on his back.

He tried to take off his seatbelt and open the door, in order to go to Cersei who was moaning.

The inside lights turned on and Jaime made his way down cautiously, his head spinning and his unsteady foot ended up in a ditch at the side of the road.

He called his sister, and opening the passenger door he saw that Cersei's face was a mask of pain and she was clutching her belly.

"Jaime, it hurts!"

"Don't worry I'll call for help."

Cersei clung to her brother's arm.

“There's the black box.” She told him, while Jaime struggled to dial the emergency number. Someone was coming from behind two headlights, asking if there were injured people.

At that moment the speakerphone rang but Robert did not press the steering wheel button in order to answer.

Jaime looked up and saw: a branch had smashed the windshield from the driver's side, piercing into Robert's neck, which appeared almost decapitated.

Eyes open wide, mouth open in a silent cry, Robert Baratheon was no longer breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Completed!   
> My Beta is the best!  
> Thanks a lot for reading it and remember, a little comment is always welcomed.

By the time the ambulance reached the emergency room of the private clinic, Cersei’s midwife was already waiting for her; the copious donations from Tywin proved very useful in such circumstances.

Jaime descended before the stretcher, pushing away the nurse who asked about his health; all he wanted was for his sister to be okay.

Cersei was pushed away quickly as she called loudly for Jaime, who tried to follow her, but after he crossed the threshold he found himself facing the barrier of a massive nurse, a tall man - a mountain almost.

"You can't be with your wife, wait here."

Jaime tried to figure out which visiting room Cersei had been led to, his height allowing him to peek through a small window of the door that separated the waiting area from the real emergency rooms.

"We need your wife's data." The tall nurse insisted, sitting behind the counter.

"Please!"

"The doctor is coming. So, the name." Jaime resigned himself to answer.

"Cersei Lannister Baratheon. Her husband died in a car accident."

The nurse quickly typed on the keyboard.

"Robert Baratheon is indeed deceased. The name of her next of kin, however, is Jaime Lannister."

"It's me, her twin."

"You were involved too. We need to assess you."

"I want to see Cersei first."

Jaime sat stubbornly on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, tensed like a violin string, thinking back to the day when everything had gone wrong and his life had turned into hell.

It had been a stupid mistake, he and Cersei had been too presumptive and arrogant, going to the house on the coast for a weekend, so sure that Tywin would stay in town.

Instead their father had surprised them, naked and entwined on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Tywin didn't shout. Instead he called them by name, enough to get them to snap up and try to cover themselves with pillows or behind the back of a couch.

Tywin ordered Cersei to get dressed, locked her in a room to keep her under control, and called one of the Clegane brothers, who were working for him as stewards. Tywin then dragged Jaime upstairs and proposed for him to enlist again or to see Cersei disinherited, defamed, and excluded from all their prestigious social circles, so as to make her an outcast. Jaime agreed to sacrifice himself for his sister.

Jaime continued to stare at the door through which Cersei had been stripped away from him; a doctor in a white coat came out and smiled at him, presenting himself as Dr. Qyburn, his sister's personal gynaecologist.

"Are you Jaime? Your sister refuses to be checked without you. Your father helped the hospital a lot, we will make an exception for you."

Introduced to the third visiting room on the right of the long corridor, Jaime ran next to Cersei's chair, and she grabbed his hand, her face sweaty.

"It's going to be all right, let them examine you."

A nurse helped Cersei to take off her coat and gown and had her lay down. Immediately the medical team focused on the patient and Jamie could no longer keep in touch with his sister for five people were around her, and she had cables attached to her chest and belly. The monitor began to release data and a nurse came out with blood sampling tubes.

Jaime was shaking; from the shock of the accident, Robert's death, Cersei suffering, he hadn’t even thought for a moment to call the rest of the family.

When a space opened up around the table, Dr. Qyburn turned around inviting Jaime to approach.

"An emergency caesarean section is required. I need consent. "

The doctor began listing the risks of the surgery; the fetus was suffering, and he added other complicated medical terms that Jaime could not understand.

Cersei's hand shook her brother's.

"It's too early!" Jaime intervened, "It's premature."

The memory of their mother, who died in her seventh month during Tyrion's birth, struck him as a punch to the stomach.

Cersei murmured something, and the doctor looked at Jaime with a strange expression before explaining to him that the baby was only a few days early.

But Cersei had been married less than eight months earlier; the doctor must have confused her with another patient. Jaime stared at his sister, whose emeralds shone despite the difficulty of the moment.

"Leave me alone with him for a moment."

As Dr. Qyburn and the staff moved to the hallway, Cersei breathed deeply to control the pain and wasted no time with her brother.

"The child is yours. Not Robert's. When I found out, I was already engaged."

It seemed impossible to Jamie. He was the father? Was Cersei pregnant by him?

"It can't be. We used precautions!"

"When our father discovered us he sent me to Aunt Genna without luggage. The pill was missed."

Jaime didn't know what to say: instinct told him to believe his sister - they had spent that last weekend making love over and over again - he reasoned that if Robert and Cersei had had intimacies before the wedding there was no certainty about fatherhood that she so asserted.

"You're the father. I swear. Dr. Qyburn knows everything. He agreed not to say anything to Robert and Father."

Jaime leaned over his twin, hugging her as much as possible, unable to express in any other way the emotions that were dominating him, above all the relief of knowing that Robert had been deceived.

The doctor called them back to reality.

"The operating room is ready. We have to go."

With a disposable gown, a cap covering his blonde hair, wearing one glove and the other left in the box, Jaime was finally allowed to be next to Cersei.

As he prepared himself, half listening in to the nurse's explanations, his thoughts had run free; he was still incredulous that his sister had managed to deceive everyone.

Tywin had wanted to use Cersei for years for an arranged marriage, while she wanted to succeed her father in command of the family business - an ambition alien to Jaime as he did not aim to command - considering it an important milestone.

Being discovered had damaged his twin's plans, had forced her to accept Robert, but perhaps not to bend to her husband’s will.

If it was true, if the baby was his, then Cersei cared more about Jaime than anything else. Tywin and Robert would have gotten her an abortion within the hour if she had said she had gotten pregnant by an occasional affair.

But what if Cersei was wrong? Doubts came back in waves. Robert was more than fertile; he had been sued by three women for paternity cases he had always lost, and Jaime tried to remember the photos of the children in newspapers - easier for him to look at images than read texts - that confused him because they all looked the same.

A panel separated the two golden heads from the medical team. Cersei said she felt no pain after the heavy anesthesia, yet Jaime instead felt the seatbelt etched into his flesh.

The doctor briefly updated them on the various stages of the surgery.

"Qyburn helped me a lot." Cersei explained to her twin.

"How could you keep it a secret?"

"Robert was always on the hunt for skirts and Father for power. Knowing I was pregnant, they left me alone. That's what they wanted from me."

"You didn't warn me."

"I couldn't."

"Tyrion could have informed me."

"What could I have told him? The truth? I couldn't risk anything happening to the baby. You understand, Jaime. I was so happy not to carry Robert's child."

For a moment Jaime seemed to think the baby was more important to Cersei than he was, then he was ashamed of the thought. It wasn't Cersei's fault that they had Tywin Lannister as their father.

Jaime had never considered a pregnancy, other than to be careful to avoid it, yet ever since he had seen his sister's belly he had been envious of Robert, because it was a part of her husband she carried inside, but it was a jealousy that had turned out to be wrong, more than the other selfish reactions against Robert.

Cersei had kept the baby because she wanted it, so Tywin and Robert would be happy, so that they would appreciate her if she didn't have another way to be appreciated.

Cersei would be satisfied and Jaime would allow her to be, giving her a son that Robert would proclaim as his and raise as his heir.

But Robert was now out of the game - Jaime wondered if it was really a sin to be relieved of someone's death - and that changed a lot of cards on the table; he had seen how Robert treated his twin and had felt his blood freeze.

Cersei drew his head to her, wanted him closer; it was time.

Qyburn briefly updated them and then in a low voice, so as not to divert the attention of the team from their duties, he turned to the woman.

"It's him, right?"

The nod of consent was not necessary, the doctor had read the answer in her smile.

"If the father wants to see, we're ready."

Jaime took courage, getting up to look beyond the divider, but the scene appeared more bloody than all the battles he had witnessed and even more so than his wounding in the minefield.

He immediately returned to focus only on his sister and a few minutes later the newborn's cry filled the room.

"It’s a boy."

Quickly cleaned of blood, the child was passed to his mother so that she could hold him for a few minutes before the surgery continued. If Jaime still had doubts about who the father was, those were taken away when the fine blond hair and green eyes were revealed.

A real lion, a pure Lannister.

Cersei woke up on Christmas morning and the first thing she saw was a huge bouquet of roses on the nightstand tied up with a red and gold bow and a sleeping brother in the armchair under the window, wrapped in a blue blanket.

She observed him in silence; Jaime's face was different from the night before, relaxed and quiet, although a bruise had formed on his temple and an eyebrow was swollen.

The roses were white inside, the outer part of the petals an intense red, a variety that she had never seen, probably rare and special.

A note was attached to the bow, with an inaccurately dashed heart, as by someone with difficulty using a pen, and a single J.

"Jaime!"

To his name Jaime awakened, and for a moment he lost the notion of time and space. Trying to sit up better he felt the aftermath of the blow right away, until he saw Cersei on the bed, smiling.

"The roses. Are they yours? "

"Do you like them? I ordered them last night for you. How are you?"

"The effects of anesthesia are gone. My breasts hurt too."

Almost in response to Cersei's statement, a nurse arrived to check on her, administering pills and announcing that they would soon bring the child.

Jaime got up trying to stretch his sore back and in front of the mirror opened two buttons of his shirt; the strip left by the seatbelt was red and sore.

"Does it hurt? What about your head?"

"A little. I'm going to get something."

"We need to talk before they bring Joffrey."

"Who?" Jaime's astonished face made his sister nervous, but she decided not to point it out.

"The child. Robert allowed me to choose the name. Father gave his consent. You know he's going to be Joffrey Baratheon for everyone, right?"

Too many things cascaded at the same time, and Jaime felt like a boxer trapped at the corner, everything spinning around, quickly, his life changing and twisting at light speed.

Of course, for the whole world the newborn was not his, he could not be his, he would be Robert's son, but at least he would not have to put up with Robert as a father.

"You've had months to think, not just one night. I don't know, Cersei...."

At that moment the midwife brought the baby, who already looked cuter after the trauma of birth, Jaime thought looking at him, while the woman explained to Cersei how to breastfeed him, inviting the new father – Jaime shoved away the impulse to look around for Robert – to observe carefully.

When the midwife went out, the newborn was sated and Cersei cuddled him in her arms; she was better after the painkillers they had given her.

It was absurd to have left a sister months earlier and find a mother, but Cersei's face was radiant when she turned to Jaime. s

"Do you want to hold him?"

"Can I? Really?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We're alone and you're his uncle."

Jaime carefully took the baby and looked at it carefully, while Cersei looked at them satisfied: five fingers on each hand and foot, no signs of deformities like Tyrion, a proportionate head and body; Jaime couldn't believe that a newborn could be so beautiful, especially if born from a bond like theirs.

Dr. Qyburn arrived to examine Cersei and help her take some steps as usual after such an operation. Jaime followed the nurse to the nursery, Joffrey would stay there for a few more hours before he could stay in the room with his mother.

Jaime was curious to see the other children; he had never been interested before in the various aspects of fatherhood and now he felt the desire to face that world, to look over the precipice that he could not really face.

In front of the row of cradles, he immediately recognized the blond tuft of hair that at dinner Aunt Dorna had remembered to be a hallmark of all the little lions, her children and nephews.

Other men were staring at the newborns, proud, conversing with each other, with other family members, and there were fathers with one or two children who wanted to see the newcomers. Jaime wished to join in, to show his and have theirs indicated, but something held him back. It was Joffrey Baratheon, not Lannister.

But a Joffrey Lannister could not have been born with Tywin around, so there were no other possible solutions than to be an attentive and caring uncle. And perhaps an uncle like him was better than a father without a hand.

"The first one?"

Jaime gasped upon realizing that someone was asking him a question; a man taller than him, with hair red as fire, almost wild eyes, but a good smile.

Jaime nodded, instinctively, and before correcting the error the giant patted him on the shoulder.

"I've been here for two girls, several nieces and nephews and now a boy." He pointed to a gigantic newborn with red hair and blue eyes like the sea "My second wife wanted a male at all costs, so as not to give a female her height."

"I have a boy, too."

"Babies born on the wrong day. How many gifts will they lose?"

Jaime realized it was Christmas, the night of the most cherished birth; he hoped it would bode well for Joffrey.

A large stuffed lion almost hid Tyrion as he advanced into the hallway.

"Merry Christmas Jaime! So where's our nephew? The police phoned me in the middle of the night, now I understand why you didn't call me."

Tyrion approached his brother, asking him to indicate the cradle; Jaime watched him follow the direction of his finger, the expression from cheerful to curious to incredulous to worried.

Trion lowered the gift to the ground and turned to Jaime.

"Eyes?"

"Green." He reluctantly admitted.

"The Baratheons have blue, all of them."

Jaime appeared resigned to that kind of comment, as if he already planned to hear it many times in the future.

"And Robert had black hair."

"Even his brothers, I saw them at the wedding."

Jaime lowered his head, and Tyrion invited him to move to two chairs into the hallway.

"Maybe he's not Robert's son?"

"What do you want me to tell you?" Jaime asked him.

"The truth. The whole truth."

"Cersei was pregnant when she got married. The baby is mine."

Tyrion was speechless.

Jaime had phoned his father in the middle of the night - after ordering the roses - finding Tywin awake and lively while Jaime felt like a rag. Knowing of his son-in-law's death, Tywin had not seemed saddened, and he was only interested in his grandson’s health.

"When our father asked me who Joffrey looks like, I told him Cersei."

Jaime remembered that in the video call at the restaurant Tywin had not considered any of Robert's proposals, especially the one about a new industrial plant in the North with his friend Ned Stark.

"And he?"

"He was silent for a moment, then he wanted to know if Cersei was okay after giving birth and if I suffered for the accident."

"Do you think he suspected anything?"

"He said he wants to create a fund for Joffrey and every other grandchild."

"Then don't worry, he only cares about the new Lann... uh… grandkid. For our father Robert was just a merger that he still couldn't complete. He considered him a drunk, easily manipulated, you saw how much he drank too. Now tell me how you are."

Tyrion had convinced Jaime to be examined and go home for a shower and a change of clothes.

When Jaime returned to the hospital in the evening, Cersei held out her hand to make him sit next to him, recommending that he pay attention to her wound. The crib was beside the bed, and Joffrey was asleep, his little clenched fists hidden by the red onesie with cat designs.

"We are free without Robert."

His sister's enthusiasm seemed slightly unwarranted to him.

"I don't think so. The old lion will find you a new husband and send me to work in an overseas branch. I'm useless now."

He raised the stump, which Cersei stared at, without really seeing him.

"There are new prosthetics now, we will find a suitable one. It won't look like you don't have a hand."

Jaime didn't care to have a new hand, but if Cersei asked, he was willing to accept it, in order to see her happy.

"Whatever you want. But our father won't let me stay."

"You can work with me at Baratheon industries. I have a majority now, on Joffrey's behalf. There is an iron-clad premarital agreement and I will not support the merger. And I won't have any husbands, Dr. Qyburn will declare that a second pregnancy would be too risky for me. But in a few years I hope we will have a girl. Myrcella Lannister sounds good as a name, doesn't it?"

"Myrcella is a lovely name, but Lannister... she'd be a bastard!"

"Technically Joffrey is, too. We're in the 21st century, Jaime, not the Middle Ages. People will think that a widow consoled herself with a casual relationship and then decided to keep the baby."

Jaime had to admit that everything was logical, perfect. Cersei couldn't have designed everything in haste, especially not a second child with him.

"How could you think of everything?"

"I had months, one way or another Robert would have to go. Smoking, alcohol and whores, it takes little more to have a heart attack. I read his medical records, his arteries were like those of an older man. He stuffed himself with food. It happened earlier than expected, a providential accident I would say."

"The police will ask us about the incident."

“Robert was driving and he was drunk. Qyburn read the autopsy report."

"Tyrion also saw him drink all evening. We talked about it before."

Cersei looked at her hands, then stared at her brother.

"I had other solutions ready – did you think I would have continued to be with him for a long time? When he fucked me, I was thinking about you and the baby. He disgusted me. I don't want another husband, or children who aren't yours."

Jaime saw the lioness ready to protect her cub from the pack leader; he had underestimated her, for in those few months while she had had to adapt and put on a front for her life with Robert, she had studied escape routes.

The Cersei of the day before had disappeared, the apparently docile fawn was returning to her true nature of a proud and majestic animal, the lion that Jaime had always loved.

Cersei slipped off her wedding ring, a heavy gold band, a mark of control, and handed it to Jaime.

"Throw it away and pull the water."

"With pleasure."

Jaime took it in his hand; it really was an imposing ring, almost vulgar from being so showy. He decided that he would give Cersei a new one, refined, with an emerald worthy of her eyes. He imagined a wedding on the beach, away from everyone else, only the two of them, Joffrey and the minister to exchange vows before God.

Jaime came out of the bathroom, listening to Cersei’s other projects: working together they could see each other without risk and a financially independent Jaime could reject his father's claims.

Jaime sat on the bed again, and his sister invited him to lie beside her.

"There's an outbuilding on the Baratheon estate, it's perfect for you. Robert used it to bring the girls. His personal brothel. You could change the décor, but it's just to keep appearances."

Jaime laughed with gusto after a long time; this part of the project he liked very much, the idea of living under the same roof, of being a family. Cersei caressed his good arm, right up to his face. Light touches that were enough to make Jaime’s boil blood. He wanted her, as always, but perhaps even more than before.

"Once my stitches are off, I can't wait to have my brother back in my bed." Cersei's hand came to rest on the back of his head. "My lover." Their faces were close. "My love." Their lips joined together in a kiss, growing more and more intense, finally together after such a long time.

It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

**Author's Note:**

> The space under here Is made for comments. A comment Is a Great Christmas gift, thanks.


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